Pricks and Short Tempers
by Jasmine of the Forest
Summary: Lizzie Bennet is well-read witty and greatly liked by everyone. She has no enemies - that is until Darcy and the Bingleys move to her school. She cannot figure out why Will despises her so much ... **on indefinite hiatus**


**PRICKS AND SHORT TEMPERS**

Dislaimer: Pride & Prejudice is the property of Jane Austen and her publishers. I am merely playing with her toys and hoping I don't break them!

_Hi everyone! Treading new waters here with the whole Jane Austen fic thing. Usually, I like to write things as they naturally are – so in the case of JA, a regency fic would suit me fine. However, unfortunately (I dare say) for you, I am going through a bit of a phase where the high school fics appeal most. I think it has something to do with the fact that I am in my final year of high school. Okay, yesm (no, that's not a typo, it's just one of my sayings), there are a fair few modern day high-school P&P's on the go. What do I have to offer that's different? I come from Australia. So, while I learn how the American school system works from reading those other stories, you'll be getting a bit of an insight into how it rolls in Victoria, Australia. Also, just a warning. The way this story is written – it may seem a little odd. What I have essentially found myself doing – though it is entirely unintentional – is bring Jane Austen's style of writing into our day and age, as well as diluting it with my own style. The end result was...this. So...hopefully...enjoy!_

**Chapter One**

It is a truth universally acknowledged that any hot yet genuinely nice guy is either taken, gay or fictional.

Of course, one must pity any friendly good-looking guy, oblivious as most are to the fact that just so is the general public opinion of them. Well, Lizzie was not too sure if it was the general public opinion or not, but it seemed to sound pretty darn accurate in her head. She sighed. Always so cynical, was she not, on the first day of school for the year? Also, for the first day of term, for the first day of the week – and usually for any day ending with the letters 'D', 'A' and 'Y' on which she was forced – against her will, she may well add – to go to school.

On this particular day, she had arrived at school a full forty-five minutes before homeroom started. She knew her sister Jane was eager and nervous to begin her final year at Meryton Secondary College, but surely this was taking it a little too far? Lizzie promised herself that, next year, when she was rocking up for the last first day of the school year ever, she would not follow her sister's example. If Lizzie were left to her own devices, she knew she would be lucky to be at school before recess began. How was she going to cope next year without her elder sister, best friend and personal alarm clock slash yearly planner there with her?

Lizzie, unaccustomed as she was to arriving early – Jane could only ever convince her to arrive on time – was shocked to see how many students were actually at school this early in the morning. The little squirts who called themselves Year 7s were desperately clinging on to the students they knew from their own primary school – regardless of whether they got along the previous year or not – looking awkward in red and blue uniforms that were too large for them. The Year 8s, themselves in the same scary positions as the Year 7s just a year ago, did only what was proper – they laughed at the younger students, and tried to intimidate them. The Year 9s and 10s were each primarily concerned with themselves, while the Year 12s were busy catching up, expressing their fears for the upcoming year, and reminiscing about their first day at school, and how terrifying they found the place. That left it up to the Year 11s – Lizzie herself was a part of this year level – to kindly direct the newbies where to go, tell off the Year 8's for being rude, ignore the Year 9s – unless there was a sibling there – greet the Year 10s who were friends, and respectfully keep their distance from the Year 12s.

Lizzy had done a full circuit of where the Year 11 students were clustered, but could not find her best friend Charlotte amongst any of the groups there. A girl Lizzie had made friends with in homeroom the previous year, Alicia Menton, noticed Lizzie wandering around by herself, and beckoned her over to join her group of friends.

"Lizzie!" Alicia exclaimed as she hugged her classmate. "We really were quite embarrassing these holidays. What happened to us promising to catch up at _least_ five times over the summer?"

"I lost count after zero," Lizzie smiled warmly, happy to see her friend again. "But I suppose one of us giving the other her phone number may have gone quite a long way in remedying that."

"Aw, I love hearing her speak!" One of Alicia's friends squealed. "You must read a lot. You have such a... intricate way of speaking."

"I believe the word you're after is 'eloquent', Caitlin," Alicia grinned.

"See? You're rubbing off on her too!"

Lizzie laughed, easing into the conversation as she always did, despite her 'intricate' way of talking. It was not too long before the girls' accounts of their summers changed to gossip they'd heard upon arriving at school.

"I heard," Caitlin was saying in a manner of great authority, "that we're getting three new boys this year."

"Any new girls?"

"Who cares?"

"Well, I couldn't care less about who's coming into _our_ year," another girl, Ingrid, said. She feigned being quite content to leave matters at that, but was gratified by her friends asking what she meant. "Well," she continued. "Do any of youse know that Bingley & Darcy law firm?"

Lizzie could not reply, still trying to bite her tongue about the use of 'youse'. Thankfully, she need not trouble herself with replying in the affirmative.

"Who hasn't?" was Alicia's response.

"Even I've heard of them," Caitlin chimed in. "And I ain't heard of much, let me tell ya."

"Well," Ingrid continued to use her favourite word. "From what I hear, the sons of both Bingley and Darcy, of the Bingley and Darcy law firm, naturally, are gonna be coming to humble old Meryton SC this year."

Ingrid seemed sufficiently satisfied with the awe that many of her friends promptly put on show.

"You don't suppose they'd really come here, not really?" Caitlin appealed to Alicia and Lizzie.

"I was quite sure both families were settled in the eastern suburbs," was Alicia's reply.

"And, as such, are far above denigrating themselves in such a manner," Lizzie laughed. "The sons of Darcy and Bingley, I assure you, would be attending a private, exclusive and, may I venture, elitist school in Melbourne. I cannot perceive any justification for why they would come here."

The girls looked at Alicia for a translation, and Caitlin asked if either of them would mind "dumbing it down a little."

Alicia laughed. "What Lizzie said was – more or less – they're arrogant snobs who belong at a private school in the city, and not at miserable old Meryton. Why on earth would they come here?" A collective "Oh!" was emitted from the group.

"Well," Ingrid seemed pleased at the opportunity for dishing more of her dirt. "It turns out their old folks are opening up a new branch of the law firm in Netherfield."

"Where's Netherfield?" Caitlin asked, befuddled.

"Dear, that's the next town over. Remember? You buy pizza there," Alicia kindly offered.

Caitlin coloured in embarrassment, and Ingrid continued. "They didn't really decide to bring their kids down with them until about a month ago, and Netherfield High had no more places. Bet they were kicking themselves for letting us steal the sons of E-grade celebrities. And so, seeing as though we were the only school in the area lucky enough to have room, they're coming here."

"Lucky us," Lizzie remarked, without the slightest hint of sincerity. "Who here is willing to wager that they will arrive in a limo?"

"You're not taking any more of my money, Lizzie," Alicia laughed. "I have, after last year, certainly learnt my lesson."

"How do you think they'll like it in the ghetto?" another girl asked.

"For the last time, Tina," Ingrid replied. "We do not live in the 'ghetto'. Yes, Meryton is a western suburb. Yes, we do not have the cleanest record around – for anything. But we do not have any gangs, for starters."

"Unless you count that group of old men who ride their push bikes to bowls every Tuesday and Thursday morning," Lizzie grinned.

A few minutes later, Charlotte finally arrived, and joined Lizzie and the others. It seemed she too had heard of the additions to the school, and could add to Ingrid's knowledge. The boys' names were William Darcy and Charles Bingley. Also, William had a little sister, Georgiana, who was in Grade 4 and would be attending one of the local primary schools, while Charles had two sisters in Year 11 – they were twins. The two boys were in Year 12 that year, and were best friends. Rumour was, however, that Charles was very easy to get along with, while William was rude and a snob – he had not many friends other than Charles.

"I wonder when we are to meet these boys," Lizzie pondered.

"I daresay your aunty will call them up at assembly," Charlotte supplied.

"Oh, my word. I had happily forgotten about her." Charlotte gave Lizzie an odd look, but the girl did not bother to answer.

Lizzie's aunty, Mrs Phillips, was vice principal at Meryton Secondary College. She was also very much concerned with matters dearest to the hip pocket. Five years ago, a boy who went to the school went on to play AFL football. Mrs Phillips, on behalf of the school, took credit for his playing ability. She was more than happy to claim the roots of his talents were planted in the school's soil – that was just the culture they bred down there, so she said. Two years ago, a Year 12 student won first division in one of the weekday lotteries – again, Mrs Phillips assured the media and parents that the school was to thank – that was 'just the kind of culture the bred at Meryton Secondary College.'

"Yes," Lizzie sighed, after she and Charlotte had said goodbye to the other girls. "We shall have the sons of two rich lawyers in our midst, but, I suppose –"

"That's just the kind of culture we bred down here at Meryton high," the two girls said simultaneously, then burst out laughing.

* * *

Lizzie, along with Charlotte, located the homeroom lists. She was delighted to find that she was with Charlotte for the first time since Year 8. However, she was slightly disappointed to find the Jeffrey Collins was also in their class. After last year, Lizzie had been on the verge of throttling the slimy boy, and she shivered to think that she had reasonable grounds to suspect him of being somewhat attracted to her. She could only hope and pray that she had no real classes with him, and that he did not sit near her in homeroom.

Lizzie was distracted with these unhappy thoughts when Charlotte called her attention. "Look, Lizzie! Why you do think all those kids are crowding around for?"

"Either Kelsey Yulovic has fainted again, or our very own male Paris and Nicole have arrived," Lizzie replied, heading back to Alicia's group of friends who were part of the crowd, despite herself. Charlotte faithfully followed.

"Oh, Lizzie, there is no need to be so mean."

"That remains to be seen."

Upon reaching Alicia, Lizzie asked what the commotion was. It turned out rumour spread fast and, by now, almost the entire school knew who was expected. Moments earlier, two Mercedes Benz had driven along the school's internal road, presumably in the direction of the school office. Everyone was crowding around the back entrance to the office – the one the students used – waiting for the boys to come out. Lizzie noticed her older sister and another of the school captains, Chris Johnson, make their way over to the office. They were the escorts for the new arrivals. Within moments, they emerged again, accompanied by two students who had not been there before. The first walked beside Jane. He seemed a very nice sort of boy, with blonde, curly hair, a baby face and a confident, friendly, broad grin. The other walked a little ahead of Chris. He was tall, with dark brown hair. Though the effect of the hairstyle was meant to make it look unkempt, Lizzie suspected a lot of time and effort had gone into making their hair look so careless. His face was not round like his friend's, but angular, with high cheekbones. He had dark eyes, long lashes and an almost perfectly-formed nose. Lizzie supposed he may have been quite good-looking, were it not for the horrendous scowl he wore. It appeared he was not appreciative of the crowd that had formed to great him.

Almost as soon as the group had walked past, whispering broke out amongst all the other students. "Do you suppose either of them is single?" Caitlin queried.

"If either Master Bingley or Master Darcy were single," Lizzie began. "They would most certainly not find a girl who meets their requirements at Meryton."

"True," Alicia sighed. "But they are _really _hot."

"Which do you suppose the brunette was?" Lizzie asked, refusing to commit her opinion.

"Darcy, I'd say. His father has taken a lot more risks than Bingley's, and has been in the business a good decade longer. Essentially, he owns the company, and Bingley is his second-in-command. As such, the Darcy's have loads more money than the Bingley's. I think I read somewhere that the Mr Darcy was the third richest man in Australia. Bingley's name did not appear in the top fifty. I guess the more money you have, the snobbier you are."

"Indeed," Lizzie agreed vehemently. "He held himself in such a way that fully convinces me of his holding himself in an esteem far above the rest of us."

"He thinks he's 'too cool for school' – or this school, at least," Alicia translated.

"I'm sorry," Lizzie apologised. "I usually try to speak with better understandability, but I guess I'm just out of humour. I hate starting back at school, and Darcy has made me mad. It is a shame, though, because Bingley looks like a really nice boy."

"Do you think _he_ is single?" Tina asked.

"Good-looking, friendly, single and _not_ opposed to going out with a girl from here?" Lizzie threw her arms about her to demonstrate that she was talking about the school. "It is a truth universally acknowledged that such a guy is too good to be true."

"If something seems too good to be true, then it usually is," Charlotte wisely added.

Lizzie noticed teachers filtering to the yard, looking for students from different year levels to go and get the other new arrivals. It was not too long before the bell rang, and school was ready to start for the year.

* * *

"Well," Charlotte said, glancing over at Lizzy's timetable. "We have Indonesian, PE and Legal Studies together. Of course, you _would_ have to go and be smart and do Year 12 English, Specialist Maths and Literature a year early."

"I do hope I'm in Jane's English class – I'm still upset that she wouldn't choose Lit or Spesh, but I suppose she's never really been too interested in those things. Her talent really does lie with both the culinary arts and the fine arts."

"So she's doing Food tech, Fibre tech _and_ VCD this year?"

"And graphics."

"Really? I'm surprised the school let her take on so much. Don't they all have _massive_, year-long final pieces attached?"

"Unfortunately, but you know what Jane's like – she'll have everything finished by June, and have a second semester of next to nothing to do."

"I do envy her that," Charlotte sighed. "I usually leave everything until the last minute, and I don't know how I'd go trying to do four pieces that were meant to take me six months each in one evening."

Lizzie laughed. "Lottie, I'm exactly the same. The worst I'm faced with this year is a maths outcome that goes for three hundred minutes – and that's done in class over a fortnight!"

"Three hundred minutes? That's five hours! How many questions are there?"

"Seven," Lizzie grinned.

"You've got to be kidding me," Charlotte grinned as though Lizzie were joking. After a moment's hesitation, she realised, "You're not kidding! I'm so glad I'm a dull, dull child! Further Maths is going to be more than enough to satisfy _me_ next year!"

Lizzie laughed, and looked down at the sheet of paper on her desk with her timetable and locker allocation on it. "I've got locker 17 this year. Excellent – I don't think I've had a top locker all the time I've been here."

"Really? I think I have – every time."

"Lucky you," Lizzie sighed dramatically. "How fortunate are those who have never had to suffer a bottom locker! All those many, many months of having to get down on one's knees to get to one's books. All those falling objects landing on your head – Kelsey was hit in the head by a rogue lock last year. Do you know how heavy those things are? I think it dinted her skull."

"I'd like to say I think it dinted her brain, but she has always been stupid, long before any heavy locks fell on her head."

"Lottie!" Lizzie exclaimed, laughing. "We really are getting nasty in our old age. What locker are you?"

"19 – excellent. I'm next to you, Lizzie."

"Fantastic," Lizzie glanced around the classroom, trying to suss out where Jeffery Collins was sitting. She could not find him anywhere. "Isn't Jeff Collins meant to be in our class?" Lizzie asked Charlotte.

"You saw that too? Yes, he is. Apparently, though, he's won't be here for at least another week. It would appear he has gone and gotten scurvy. Really, though, who gets scurvy in this day and age?"

Lizzie grinned, "Grotty Jeff Collins, that's who."

* * *

The day progressed as such: the first fifty-minute period was spent in pastoral classes getting things organised – lockers assigned and filled, timetables and diaries given out, an explanation of what to expect for the year, and a recital by the homeroom teachers of all important dates for the semester. The next fifty minutes were taken up by a whole-school assembly, where the principal, Mr Austen, welcomed the students to the new school year, in an extremely long-winded speech. Lizzie was thankful that the principal took up the whole period, as she was sure her aunt would be calling two of the new families in the school up on the stage if she had the chance. In fact, she saw her aunt looking quite sad at the missed opportunity to boast.

By the time recess rolled around, Lizzie couldn't help but think that it felt as though the holidays had never occurred. She sat with Charlotte then, and was surprised to see crowds of girls hanging around the Year 12 building. Though Lizzie suspected she knew the reason, she did not remark on this to Charlotte. Before too long, Jane Bennet came to join her sister and her friend.

"How was your morning, Lizzie?" the blonde school captain asked.

"It's been fine – just the same of every other morning. I assume the groupies are for our new _Girlfriend_ centrefolds?"

"Lizzie, don't be nasty," Jane begged, blushing a little. "I haven't talked to Will Darcy yet, but I have spoken to Charlie Bingley. He seems to be a very nice, sweet sort of boy."

"Jane," Lizzie teased. "Do I detect a slight bit of embarrassment? You wouldn't happen to have fallen for Bingley _already_, would you?"

"Hardly, Lizzie," Jane admonished. "it would be foolish to say you genuinely liked someone off the back of two conversations. No, but I do find him to be very pleasant."

"_Now_ you find him pleasant," Lizzie laughed. "Next week you will find him 'most agreeable'. I daresay by the end of the semester, you may just be convinced he is your one and only soul-mate."

"Hush Lizzie," Jane laughingly scolded. "No, that is impossible. They are only to be here for one term, before they and their families move back east."

"Thank goodness for that!" Lizzie smiled. "No, I have nothing to say against your Charlie, but I can already tell that his best friend and I will not get on at all. He seems far too pleased with himself, and far too above his company. I shall be glad to see the back of him."

"Don't be too hasty to judge, Lizzie. Perhaps when you know him a little better, you may actually like him."

"Doubtful, very doubtful."

The bell rang to signal that end of recess, and the two sisters went their separate ways. The next order of the day was one hundred minutes dedicated to year level assemblies. Then it was lunch. After lunch was over – and the same crowd of girls had staked out at the Year 12 block – it was finally time for the first class of the year. For Lizzie, this meant Specialist Maths. As she waited outside the classroom for her teacher to arrive, she was pleased to see that many of the students who had been in her class last year were again with her this year. She was the only Year 11 in the class, so was quite glad to see familiar faces. She noted that one of the new boys, Will Darcy, was in her class. While the rest of the Year 12s were happily bunched together and chatting, he was standing by himself, leaning against the wall, some ten metres down the hallway. Lizzie was surprised to find that she felt some small bit of pity for him. Rich though he may be, he seemed also to be shy. Perhaps it would be hard for him to settle into this new school.

Because of this small sympathy towards him, Lizzie decided to try to be friendly. She walked up to him, and greeted him with a simple, "Hi, how are you going?"

To Lizzie's annoyance, the boy did not even answer her. He just scowled. "You know," Lizzie remarked angrily. "If the wind changes, your face will get stuck like that. But perhaps that's the look you're going for."

"What do you want?" He was seemingly annoyed at her interruption of his solitude.

"Well, I was trying to be trying to be friendly, but it would seem I'm wasting my time."

"You would be the best judge of that."

"Fine!" Lizzie threw her hands up, and went back to where she had dropped her books. How incredibly rude! All she had done was say 'hi', and he cracked it at her. What was his problem? The teacher eventually arrived, and the class were let in. The tables were grouped in sets of two. Lizzie took one table near the middle of the classroom, and set up her books. She glanced up as the last person walked through the door. It was Will Darcy. By the time he had walked in, there were only two tables left. One was next to Lizzie. The other was next to Courtney Johnson, a girl who was the epitome of a teeny bopper. On this particular day, she had managed to slip past teachers without them noticing her pink fingernails, incredibly orange face, bright red lips and bottle-blonde pigtails. She was not a very bright girl, so Lizzie could not imagine how she ended up in the Specialist Maths class – though she was under the impression that the fact that Courtney's mother was the Maths co-ordinator might have something to do with it. Lizzie was sure that Courtney was one of the girls who would have already begun a pursuit of Will Darcy, so she was sure he would know what she was like. However, Will sent one withering look in the direction of the vacant seat next to Lizzie, then went to join Courtney, who looked as though she might faint.

Lizzie felt her blood boil. No, she did not in any way not dislike Will Darcy, but it bruised her ego somewhat to be slighted in favour of _Courtney Johnson_ of all people. But she told herself that she should be glad. If he had sat next to her, that meant she would have to put up with him for the rest of the term, and she could not guarantee that she could do that without shoving her compass through somebody's eye – she was still undecided whether that somebody would be her or Will. Anyway, it was not as though Lizzie was a loner at her table. Several of her friends from the previous year were at the tables around her. And bonus – more space for her! As if to show Darcy her great pleasure at having the table all to herself, she spread her books and pencil case out on the vacant table, and turned to talk to her friends, grinning. She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that he had been watching her while Courtney chatted incessantly to him. Good. Now she had only people she liked around her, all the space in the world, and he had Courtney Johnson. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

_**A/N:**__ There we are, people. My first attempt at a Jane Austen fic. I hope it wasn't too terrible. It took me a while to decide how to represent Lizzie. I mean, she was outspoken in the novel, so by today's standards, she should have been quite the rebel. But then I remembered how proper she was in the novel – and though propriety has no real bearing nowadays, I decided to make her decent and sensible, to represent this. Also, yes, she may seem a little wordy. But keep in mind that dear Lizzy reads a lot. And it is not really unbelievable for someone to speak like this. My friends this I have a very formal way of speaking at times, and another couple of my friends – a boy and a girl – both speak very eloquently, as they too read a lot. The way a person speaks just indicates the books they read, or lack thereof. Anyways, I was planning on using the way she speaks as a way of endearing her __to Darcy, down the track. And his speech will be quite formal too – heck, he's a eastern suburbs snob, and I've met enough of them in my life to know how they speak. Also, the characters will often be referred to by their surname. This is not a tribute to the original book, but rather just a quirk of the Australian culture. More boys are known by their surname than by their first name. You go to someone, "How's Liam?" They ask, "Who?" You reply. "You know, Reilly." "Oh," they reply. "Liam _Reilly_..." yes. And this is the end of my unbearably long author's note._

_Please review if you have the time, I love constructive criticism or just your thoughts!_

_Susie _


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